


With Apologies to The Good, the Bad and The Ugly

by LigeiaMaloy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, Banter, Cliche, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Mild Language, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:17:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LigeiaMaloy/pseuds/LigeiaMaloy
Summary: Jesse McCree is a new face in Blackhill Town. After finished another job, the well-known bounty hunter wants a drink, a meal, and a good night's sleep. Tomorrow is the big day: When the culprit he delivered to the sheriff is to be executed, Jesse needs to be well-rested. After all, it's his job to make sure that nothing goes wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my 2nd contribution for the [McGenji Week](http://mcgenjiweek.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> Also, this fic happened spontaneously. I didn't plan to write anything for the prompt "alternate universe" but yeah, suddenly, there was this silly idea...
> 
> Which leads to the most important "This fic": This fic was inspired by The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, THE Italo western from director Sergio Leone, especially by one scene close to the beginning. It's a great movie. Also, this is a [great quote](http://www.quotes.net/mquote/1020452). I think I should mention it as I butchered it so liberally. 
> 
> Yeah... like my other contribution, I made up my mind very spontaneously to write this. I scanned through it but while I hope to have caught the most horrible mistakes I can't promise I got everything. Also, no editing for now (might happen later.). I swear, however, that I tried my best! I'm not taking your language lightly! ♥
> 
>  
> 
> [Also on Tumblr](http://overwatchmayhem.tumblr.com/post/152264687727/with-apologies-to-tgbu-mcgenji)

It was his first day in this goddamn town and when he wanted to ride away, he chose to get drunk in the saloon instead. Heads jerked up as he pushed the door open. Pricked ears listened to his bronze spurs jingling, the floor creaked under his thick leather boots. Some smiled reassured at the sight of the rifle on his back, other mouths twitched nervously. It was always easy to tell how soiled a conscious was from the moment they saw a man like him carrying a weapon.

Unfortunately, none of these faces came with a price hovering above their heads.

He wouldn’t find work here this evening, tonight, he was nobody but the new arrival, one of the most joyful events in coal mining towns like this. There was only one thing that made the smudged faces glow with unhealthy excitement.

“Evening, Mr. Bounty Hunter. You _are_ the bloke who dragged the little pest to the sheriff, ain’t ya?” The bartender was a haggard man with greasy white hair who never smiled, even tonight, he didn’t make an exception. He appreciated the stranger enough to put a shot glass in front of him and to fill it with whiskey.

“Name’s McCree. Jesse McCree.” Jesse brushed sand and soot from his red serape. He took off his hat, shook the dust off, and placed in on the counter before he picked up the glass and poured the amber liquid down his throat. He nodded at the bartender.

“Remove the air from this,” he said, scratching his full beard while he waited for his drink to be refilled. Damned be the wind that never stopped blowing around this time of the year. People called it tumbleweed season for a reason, and Jesse swore that one day, he’d pick one of these buggers from his beard.

“Yer quite the talk of the town, friend. Harold, his next drink is on me!” A short man with shoulders as wide as he was tall patted Jesse’s shoulder. He was missing a tooth and bath time for at least a month, smelling of the old sweat of hard labor. There wasn’t a spotless patch of skin on his face but oddly enough, his bald head was shining like a white, small moon as it reflected the soft light of the gas lamps.

“Finally, we can tear down the posters of that guy. Tellin’ ya, was sick of seeing the bastard’s ugly mug. Can’t trust anyone who looks like a walkin’ machine. I’m Sullivan, friends call me Sully.” He offered Jesse his hand, his grin growing hard when it was ignored.

“Machine men are not trustworthy, is that so.” Jesse took a cigar from the pocket of his shirt and shoved it between his lips. A small box of matches came from the same pocket. Sullivan watched with widening eyes as Jesse lightened his cigar, holding the match between the metallic fingers of his left, metallic hand. The serape slid back, revealing an arm prosthesis that at least replaced his full lower arm. “Think before you talk, Sullivan. Look closely before you think. Or your time on this planet might be shorter than you.”

“Yeah, of course, th…that’s what I was going to say, right? Right, Harold? Ya know me, yeah? Hey, another drink for me and the good Mister!” Sullivan pulled at the collar of his shirt, his shaky smile connecting his ears.

“Anyway, yer work’s much appreciated here. Blackhill Town might be small but we’re good people. We don’t need the yellow plague raging through our streets, no sir!”

“Yellow plague?” Jesse asked, his tone innocent as he raised an eyebrow.

“Ye know. Why don’t them rats go back where they come from? Our good country should never have started doing business with China.”

“He’s from Japan if I’m not mistaken.” His fingers closed around his glass until his the white of his knuckles showed beneath his brown skin.

“Ain’t that all the same brood?”

Jesse growled in the back of his throat and slammed his empty glass down, pushing himself away from the counter.

“Why don’t you ask him that question? When his hands aren’t tied behind his back?” Jesse threw the serape over his shoulder, allowing Sullivan a good look on the holster hanging around his waist. And his polished gun.

“Hey, hey, no brawls in _my_ saloon!” The bartender moved between the two man, glasses and bottles clinking when his fist hit the counter. Skinny as he was, the gleam in his eyes promised it was a mistake to underestimate him. “We’re all grateful what you’ve done, Mister, but I won’t have you picking up fights with my other guests. And you, Sully, why don’t ya go back to your table and suck up to your friends?”

Sullivan shot an angry glare at Jesse and walked away without another word. Also, without paying for the drinks. Jesse gladly took care of it as long as that filthy bastard stayed away from him.

“Can a man get a bite in this dump?” he asked while he counted a few coins from his purse and threw them on the counter.

“Call my saloon a dump again and the Missus makes a roast off your ass.” Harold pointed at a door behind him. “Get off your high horse and grab a table. I’ll get ya a plate of beans and bread. Throw in an extra coin and I’ll tell her to look if there’s some meat left somewhere. It’s your lucky day, if ya manage to stay out of trouble for another hour, ya can watch the show. Some of the town’s less well-behaved daughters are dancing tonight. Ya got a nice face, bet ya can strike a good deal with one or two of them.”

“Maybe.” Jesse grabbed his hat and put it back on his head. “If they’re pretty.”

“They wouldn’t be less well-behaving if they weren’t.”

*

Jesse woke up shortly after sunrise. He was lying alone in his bed. He turned on his side, only finding his hat next to him. He shoved it aside and put his hand on the second, unused pillow. The town’s inn only offered four rooms and all were equipped with a bed for two. To stuff in more guests if for some reason more than four strangers decided to stay overnight at once, Jesse assumed. He sighed and sat up, stretching his arms. He hoped the Missus, Harold’s wife, once pretty and now proper and proud of her kitchen, made a better coffee than steak.

Scratching the hair on his belly, he stood up and walked over to the window, having a peek outside.

The round marketplace was busy with people. Every soul was up and about, men, women, the old, the young. Children were playing fetch between the legs of the adults, their shrill squeals cutting through the excited chatter and prattling. Vendors had opened their stands, their yells competing with each other as they pitched meat, bread, crinkly vegetables and cracked pottery to the disinterested crowd. It was the beginning of the week, an untypical day for a market, but like every good or at least greedy businessmen, they hoped to make an extra profit on an extraordinary occasion.

It wasn’t stale bread or rancid meat that had lured the whole town away from their hearths, beds, and mines.

“Coffee, please!” Jesse called as he walked down the stairs, his voice muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head with one hand. With his other, he was holding his holster and his rifle, his serape was hanging over his lower arm.

“Sure.” Harold picked a tin mug from a shelf and grabbed a tall can. Steam raised from the mug as the black gold streamed into it. “Thought you’d sleep through the whole circus.”

“Ya ain’t gonna join?” Jesse finished arranging his serape and grabbed the coffee, hardly believing his luck that it was hot and the taste agreeable. Harold sneered, pulling a disgusted face.

“Executions lose their appeal once you’ve seen half your family dangling on a rope. It raises the odd of at least one of them not breaking their neck. Don’t mind the dead. But the kicking and grunting are ugly.”

“I see.” Jesse finished his coffee. It burned his tongue and throat but it was what he needed to fully wake up. He was running out of time. He put the empty mug down, added what he owed Harold and a little more.

“Guess it’s still quite the spectacle for you younger folks. And for those who bring them folks to the gallows.”

Jesse halted. He turned his head, glancing over his shoulder. A grin appeared on his face as he spoke, “You’re wrong. I’m getting out of here as fast as I can before the showdown.” Leaving the bartender to his confusion, Jesse hastened outside.

The hooves of his horse drummed on the dry sand. Within minutes, he was away from the marketplace. Ahead of him was the main road, a straight and safe way outside. From there, he’d need at least three days on horseback until he reached the next town to refill water and provisions. With everyone gathered around the gallows, and this town being the dullest place he had seen in a while, he didn’t expect other travelers on the planned route.

But for now, he had a job to do. He had spotted the abandoned stable and storage building yesterday, shortly after the arrival. He rode behind it and left his horse to the broken fence. It was a pretty sorrel mare with a thick fur that was glowing in a deep, warm red in the early sunlight. They valued each other for their loyalty and easy-going temper, so he didn’t bother with tying her to a post and she rubbed her large head against his head, her soft muzzle nudging his face.

“Easy, Lady. Like I’d forget you!” He fished a small apple he had plucked from a tree the day before and gave it to her. “And now excuse me. If I don’t hurry, he’ll break out of hell and come back to haunt me for the rest of my life and beyond!” He gave her throat a quick pat and stormed into the building. Thanking his personal Luck Goddess, the ladder to the upper area was still intact enough to carry his weight.

He hurried towards the broken window, already throwing himself to the floor while he pulled his rifle from his back.

His heart was hammering against his chest. He forced himself to calm down. With every too quick breath, more dust was tickling the inside of his nose and the last thing he needed was a badly timed sneeze.

He took a look through the scope. The marketplace was lying in front of him.

*

“Hang him!”

“Hang the bastard!”

“Kill the monster!”

The crowd was turning into boiling kettle of disgust and hate when the sheriff and his deputy arrived.

The man between them was a head shorter. The back and sides of his head were covered with plates that reached down his throat and spine. He was walking on artificial legs. The arms as well had been replaced by prostheses, a sight that gave the onlookers shudders. Pleasant shudders, as his hands were tied firmly behind his back. A loose shirt and gray, dusty pants covered the rest of the body but the rumors of a man who was more machine than human had reached these people, too.

“So many came to see me. It’s nice to be so popular.” He exaggerated his foreign accent, chuckling at the appalled yet intrigued faces that were close enough to hear him. Well, maybe they would have reacted the same way if he remained silent. The old burns and scars on his face often had a similar effect. It was always the same with people from these small villages and towns. They feared the unfamiliar and with his foreign features, voice, and half his body replaced with cybernetics, he hit a triple jackpot. That’s why he was so good at his job.

His grin faltered the moment they arrived at the gallows. It was a simple construction. Small beams supported to upright beams, a horizontal one resting on top, with a noose dangling from the middle. Old-fashioned, nasty and approved through experience. He had been close to them countless times and they had lost their horror years ago.

“Keep moving, Shimada!” The sheriff pushed him forward.

“What is this? This isn’t my horse? Where is my horse? It’s not honorable to separate a rider and his horse, no matter the crime!” He dug his heels into the ground, his hands struggling against the rope around the wrists. Details were important and this was a sturdy, black, almost two-thousand pounds detail that didn’t fit the picture.

“Shut up. That dumb hack was a sore to the eye. This beauty is too good for you, show some respect!”

“No, no, no! I accept my fate but I want my horse! Give me _my_ horse!” He threw himself against the scrawnier deputy, ramming his shoulder into his guts. His groan was hardly audible over the cheers of the crowd. They didn’t want the crook to escape but they loved a good show.

The Sheriff slammed the end of his gun against his prisoner’s neck. The impact could have cracked a bone and even though the artificial flesh and skin softened the blow, it hurt enough to weaken his knees.

The deputy recovered quickly. Together with the sheriff, they grabbed him by his arms and dragged him towards the gelding.

“Scam! Treason! _You_ are the bandits! You stole the horse of a dying man! This is no honorable act!” He struggled and cursed as they pulled him on top of the horse. But there was no escape from the noose. The rope was heavy around his neck.

“In a few minutes, you’ll see your horse again. In hell. Now shut up and use your last moment for a last prayer.” A townsman handed the sheriff a sheet of paper. After clearing his throat, the sheriff began to read.

“Wanted in fourteen counties in this state, the condemned is guilty of horse theft, bank robbery, quackery, seducing the innocent and pure, peddling illegal cybernetic tools and parts, smuggling of moonshine, drugs and aforementioned illegal tools and parts, burglary, robbing two grocery stores, manslaughter, shooting at a deputy and killing a sheriff, forgery of money and the theft of a rooster.

Genji Shimada, as the sheriff of Blackhill Town, it is my…”

Stealing a roaster? That was new. The list was growing every time, unfortunately, this was the most interesting part. Genji’s gaze wandered around. Old women, young women, old men, young men, even children were glaring at him. He didn’t find sympathy in any of their faces. There were disgust and hate, glee and always excitement. For a few moments, the poor and the wealthy were standing side by side, united in their joy to see a man die. There was this old man licking his lips in anticipation, his wide black head shielded his ashen face from the sun. A woman was holding a toddler by her hand. Her hair was a mess, the hard glare and the spiteful smile turning her pleasant features in an ugly grimace.

Whispers were making rounds, too low to interrupt the sheriff, loud enough for Genji to pick up words like bastard or the Chinese Monster.

It didn’t matter if the audience gathered to watch a freak show or an execution. They gathered to wallow in delicious disgust from their safe ranks while they watched him suffer.

Few were different and it was about time that one of those acted.

He sighed, lowering his head.

“Sullivan, carry out the sentence!” the sheriff declared. The short, bald man standing behind the horse nodded and raised the horse whip to smack the animal’s behind.

 

Jesse pulled the trigger and the world stood still. Nothing was of importance, nothing but the bullet cutting the air for the fragments of a second.

Inches above Genji’s head, it cut through the rope.

Jesse’s heart stopped beating for a second when the horse beneath his friend pranced and shied. But it didn’t flee and with his eyes glued to the scope, Jesse fired a second shot.

The bald man who dared to insult Genji the night before fell first to his knees, then with his face in the dirt. And the startled horse bolted, with his involuntary rider still on his back.

“FUCK YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” he heard Genji shouting despite the distance between them.

“Fuck!” Jesse didn’t waste time to pick up the empty shells of his rifle. He slid down the ladder, ran to his horse as though he was bolting himself, and jumped into the saddle. Dammit, he had feared something was going wrong today when he saw the wrong horse waiting for Genji.

“Giddy up, Lady, we’ve got our kitten to save!!” He steered his horse around and as soon as he clicked his tongue, she fell into a gallop.

The smart animal sensed her rider’s urgency. Seconds passed and they sped across the marketplace.

“NO TIME!” he yelled when several villagers ran towards him.

“The criminal…!” the sheriff began.

“I said NO TIME!” Jesse shouted and was already out of earshot. There was no trace of Genji and the horse, he could only hope to ride into the right direction. Genji was able to deal with more damage than an unaltered human but even for him, a fall from a panicking horse could end badly. If things ended badly and he survived, things would get ugly for Jesse and the next nights lonely and cold.

He had already left the town behind him. The odds of finding Genji unharmed were shrinking but at least it would also take the townspeople a while to gather their wits and pursue them.

The sun was crawling higher, tickling pearls of sweat from his temples. The wide brim of his hat protected his face from the brightness but not from the wind. Soon, his nose became itchy from the dust and his clenched teeth were grinding sand.

“Whoever’s in charge up there, please let him be okay. I swear I’ll be a good honest man from now on if only he’s okay!” Jesse wasn’t religious but he’d take any miracle he could get in a situation like this.

Maybe a higher power had heard him, maybe it was just about time his thoroughbred caught up with a mere workhorse. Ahead of him, next to a crooked, leafless tree, a black horse was drinking from a murky waterhole. A small figure was leaning against the tree, sitting upright.

“Genji!” A moment later Jesse jumped from his horse. He stormed to the tree and fell around Genji’s neck. “Are you okay?” His rough lips moved over a scarred cheek while his hand ruffled through Genji’s short hair.

“Oh, you mean, with me sitting on this beast, you taking your sweet time, my bones broken, clothes soaked and the noose still around my neck? How okay does that sound to you?”

“Not very much.” Jesse chuckled. _Sorry, Gods, the deal was when he_ _’s okay._ “I’m sorry, kitten.” He pulled himself away, walked to his horse and returned with one of Genji’s knives. He noticed how the wet shirt was sticking to Genji’s defined body while he cut off the noose. “So your ride ended in the pond? Lucky you. It probably saved your life.”

“Yes. When you didn’t.”

“I saved it first. Hey, I’m really sorry for the rodeo but it wasn’t me who brought the wrong horse.” He took hold of Genji’s chin and lifted it up, gazing into Genji’s gray eyes. He let their noses touch but their lips remained an inch apart.

“Yeah, I know.” Genji sighed, leaning his head against Jesse’s shoulder. “It is hard to accept he’s gone. He was a good friend. A perfect companion.”

“As perfect as a deaf horse can be. But why is he gone?”

“The sheriff said he’s waiting for me in hell. Jesse, I never took a life of those without guilt but I want to kill the sheriff!” The sadness was worse to bear than Genji’s fury. Jesse wrapped his arms around him, his hand stroking soothingly over Genji’s neck.

“I’ll do it for you if you wish. But I don’t think Gaspar is dead. He’s too old to give good meat and killing him just for fun is a waste of a good, strong horse. Hey. I got an idea.” He grabbed Genji by his shoulders and pushed him away, looking at his face with the mischievous smile Genji knew all too well. It was the same smile that once had started their whole bounty hunter scam.

“Let’s wait until nighttime. They won’t expect us to return. If we’re lucky, they sent their best men to search for us, in this direction. Let them get lost in the desert. Meanwhile, we get into hiding close to the town and strike when it’s dark. And you tell me who I should kill for you! How does that sound?”

“Not bad.” A fiery gleam darkened Genji’s eyes. Jesse knew him well. There wouldn’t be much bloodshed if folks stayed out of their way. All he wanted was his horse. Once he was back in the saddle, Genji grew impatient to get away from villages and towns as quickly as possible. He hated the stares, the remarks, the judgment. It was a bit better in bigger cities and a lot in the wide wasteland.

“Jesse, before you get lost in my eyes, please untie me.” Genji twisted his upper body, showing his still tied up hands. “I want to get out of these clothes and change into something dry. Stop grinning! I know what you’re thinking!”

“Now, do you?” Jesse’s hand slipped under Genji’s shirt, gliding over his stomach. His body was a piece of art. They hadn’t met before Genji was changed but Jesse knew every inch of his body, old and new, the firm muscles tensing under artificial skin felt no different than real ones. The skin was sturdier but not hard where and when it wasn’t covered by protective plates. The differences ended when Genji shuddered under the touches of the rough fingertips. “I don’t mind freeing you of your clothes but does it matter to be tied up for a few more moments?”

“I’ll bite you!” Genji growled as he leaned forward.

“Is this a promise?”

“Fool.” Genji’s lips brushed over Jesse’s throat. He waited for the pleased growl, then, he buried his teeth in the soft flesh.

“Ouch!” Jesse laughed as he protested. He tried to pull away and winced when Genji didn’t let go. “Ouch, hey, kitten, this really hurts!”

“Good.” Genji sat up again, licking a drop of blood from his ashen lips. Jesse swallowed hard. Damn, Genji wasn’t making this easier and he knew exactly what he was doing to him with his little antics. But Jesse had learned to tell play apart from sobriety, so he picked up the knife and cut Genji loose.

“Thanks.” Genji closed and opened his hands and rubbed his wrist. Suddenly, a smirk appeared on his face and before Jesse knew it, Genji pounced at him and pushed his back into the sand. Genji chuckled as he straddled him and bent down.

“Keep the thought for another day,” he purred, his lips brushing over Jesse’s. “But today, I have enough of ropes.” His kiss was met by an open mouth and an eager tongue. Jesse’s unruly beard was soft, gently tickling his face and strong arms were sliding around Genji’s wiry body.

“And now,” Genji breathed while Jesse’s hand found again its way under his shirt.

“And now?”

“Now I want my horse back!” His teeth playfully nipped the tip of Jesse’s nose and jumped to his feet. “Come! Or did you really though I’ll sleep with you here, with an angry town - maybe - on our heels?”

“I swear!” Jesse let his head drop back into the dirt. He inhaled deeply, sighed, and sat up.

“I swear,” he repeated as he swung onto his horse’s back, right behind Genji. “A rope, a room, and a night to make you regret every time you teased me. And that’s a promise.”

“But first, we rescue Gaspar.” Genji snuggled against the wide chest behind him as Jesse reached around him for the reins.

“Right. Giddy up, Lady!” He clicked his tongue. And with his loyal horse dashing through the wasteland, his arms around his lover, Jesse McCree, bounty hunter and drifter, was ready to bring this adventure to a happy end.

 

 

 


End file.
